


More Than Just A House

by darlingescuella



Category: Red Dead, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: F/M, More Than Just a House, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingescuella/pseuds/darlingescuella
Summary: Based on quotes from one of my favourites books More Than Just A House by F. Scott Fitzgerald.After the events of the terrible Blackwater ferry job, where you lost your closest friend Jenny, you get closer to a certain cowboy while still going through the motions of grief, as well as love and fear.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Reader, Arthur Morgan & You, Arthur Morgan/Reader, Arthur Morgan/You
Kudos: 31





	1. We’ll Survive, You And I

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my Tumblr, @/morgans-whore.

Of _course_ you noticed him - how could you not?

Arthur Morgan was _quite_ the specimen; kind, loyal, strong, and not to mention gorgeous. Though, this was _not_ a time to be thinking of his looks. Jenny was killed, and you weren’t able to think of anything but that. The sounds of her screams as she was shot during the boat job in Blackwater haunted your memories, both during the day and at night.

That stupid, _stupid_ ferry job.

Stupid Blackwater.

Stupid _everything_.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be safe in this gang, but one half of you was taken too soon, too painfully. You couldn’t help but reminisce on the day Dutch had found you and her, sitting on the side of the road, beaten and bruised, covered in blood and dirt. She was your rock, the only thing that kept you sane during those trying times.

Stepping outside of the cabin in the freezing air of Colter, you sighed, bringing your hands up to your face. Tears spilled from your eyes once again as memories of your best friend raced through your head. Deciding to take a moment to collect yourself before another stupid job - _a train_ \- you walked to the edge of the little abandoned town, plopping your body down on a fallen tree. Sighing again and looking out to the cloudy sky, you didn’t notice a certain cowboy approach from behind you.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout it again?” his voice rang out, shaking you from those terrible thoughts. Looking up at him, you nodded solemnly.

“Yeah, can’t seem to _stop_ thinking about it,” you whispered. He sighed before sitting next to you, taking out a cigarette and placing it between his lips. Lifting his leg up, he lit the match on the bottom of his boot. Igniting the cigarette and taking a puff, he passed it to you.

“I know the feelin’, and while I can’t give ya much reassurance on losin’ someone you care ‘bout, it _does_ get easier, you know. With time,” he said, gazing out at nothing in particular. Sitting there for what felt like hours, you two talked about your pasts. You never realized how much you really had in common with Arthur, it was surprising, to say the least.

Although you tried not to, you couldn’t help glancing at his face while he spoke. He was a very attractive man, that much was certain. You knew if Jenny were here, she’d be making fun of you for looking at him in such a way. “We lost so many people already… I can’t help but think this won’t last long. We’ll all be long dead before we’re comfortable and away from everything,” you admitted, taking another puff of the cigarette before handing it back to Arthur.

He nodded in understanding. “I get it. But… _We’ll survive, you and I_ ,” he looked over at you, a small smile on his face.

Maybe he could be your new rock.


	2. Hard To Thank Someone

The air was cold and unforgiving as you sat atop Willow, your beautiful Ardennes horse. You kept your eyes locked on the two men, Arthur and Bill, who were conversing as the former began unspooling a wire toward the detonator. Ever since he spoke with you that one day, you had an odd sense of affinity with the cowboy. Although most everyone in the gang knew you and Jenny were extremely close, nobody except him seemed to comfort you about her death.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Arthur coming back up the mountain before his horse settled next to yours. “He says all fine,” he told Dutch.

“We’ll soon find out,” Javier spoke up.

“Everything okay?” you asked Arthur.

“I think so,” he said looking at you.

“Okay, cover your faces. Train should be here any minute now,” Dutch said, interrupting the little moment you two had. Smiling to yourself, you pulled up your bandana, patting your horse before looking down at Bill.

“Gentlemen,” he spoke. Glaring at him jokingly, he continued. “It’s time.” Bill was standing above the detonator, waiting to set off the explosives. “Good luck, all of you. You all know what to do,” he said.

As the train loudly rode on the tracks, Bill pushed the lever on the detonator down.

_Nothing_.

Pushing it multiple times, the dynamite didn’t ignite, and the train didn’t blow up.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Dutch spoke loudly.

“Where did you find that moron?” Arthur said, pulling down his bandana.

“You said it was fine,” Dutch countered.

“So it’s my fault now?” Arthur spoke angrily.

“Come on, y’all can argue later. Let’s go!” you climbed off your horse, running down toward the tracks, following the train.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Arthur said as he got off his horse, following.

You, Javier, Lenny, and Arthur ran after the train, jumping off the overhead onto the top of the train.

Landing on the top, you and Arthur were fine, Javier falling off the side. “Javier!” you shouted, looking back.

“Go, I’m fine!” he yelled back. Looking forward, you looked around for Lenny.

“Hey, down here!” you heard him shout. You and Arthur went over to him, each of you grabbing an arm and pulling him up.

“We got ya, now stop yelling,” Arthur said to him.

“You’re okay, let’s go slow this thing down,” you spoke up, grabbing your Volcanic Pistol from its holster, walking toward the end of the car, jumping down into the next. Lenny stabbed the guard in the neck, killing him.

“Come on, we need to stop this train,” Arthur commented.

“There’s another guard you ahead, you want me to take him?” you asked. Arthur didn’t answer before pulling out his gun and shooting him. Taking the next guy out, you three walked into the next car. Killing the next four guards without blinking, you continued on. Lenny looked at Arthur in shock. He just smiled.

Jumping on top of the next section, Lenny spoke up again. “What the hell was Bill doing? He had long enough to set that charge!”

Arthur chuckled lightly, “Well I hooked up the wire, but we won’t mention that.” Rolling your eyes, you climbed onto the coal car. Walking over to the conductor, you didn’t see the next guard behind the structure before he grabbed you. Grappling you from behind, he choked you.

“You got him? I ain’t got a clear shot,” Lenny said. You elbowed the guard continuously, turning around and tossing him off the train.

Taking deep breaths, you touched your neck. “You alright, L/N?” you heard Arthur speak, rushing over to you.

“Just peachy, Morgan. Let’s go,” you put your hat back on, jumping down into the conductors’ car. You looked at the contraption confused, before pulling a lever toward yourself. Hearing the wheels brake, you stepped away, getting off the train.

Grabbing your Lancaster repeater off your back, you and Arthur took cover behind a rock. “Shit, more guards coming out of that train car!” he spoke, shooting one down. You didn’t say anything as you shot down three more in the blink of an eye, and stepping out from behind your cover. Shooting more as you walked, you seemed oddly calm. Once all the remaining guards were dead, you strapped your gun back onto your shoulder. “Where in hell you learn to shoot like that, L/N?” Lenny asked, surprised. You laughed,

“Natural talent, I suppose,” looking back at him.

You saw Dutch and the rest of the group arriving on their horses. Dutch stepped down, “You three alright?” he asked.

“Fine, let’s get the money and go,” you said, walking over to him.

“We got some fellers holed up in this last car,” Dutch motioned to the train.

“Ah shit,” Arthur muttered, moving to stand next to you.

“What are you boys planning on doing in there?” Dutch said aloud, stepping closer to the car. “Listen to me, we don’t want to kill any of ya…” he paced. “Any more of ya,” he laughed. “I give you my word, but trust me, we will.”

“I work for Leviticus Cornwall,” a man from inside said.

“Come on, boys!” Dutch taunted.

“We got our orders!”

“Okay, you asked for it,” Dutch spoke again, beginning to count down from five.

“Seems our friends have gone deaf…” he said, walking away from the train. “Wake ‘em up a little!” Dutch shouted, raising his hands.

Everyone began shooting at the doors.

“That’s enough!” Dutch spoke again. “Mr. Williamson, Mr. Morgan, go blow that door open,” he said handing them some dynamite. You stepped forward,

“How about we _not_ have Bill handle any more explosives for the rest of the day, hm?” you took them from him. Arthur laughed, stepping towards the train with you.

Placing the dynamite in the door, you lit the fuse, running back with Arthur. The door blew open, but nobody stepped out.

“Alright, come on. Just walk out here,” Dutch said again. “We don’t want to kill you… We just wanna rob your boss!” he laughed.

The group of men exited the train, each of them crouching in the snow.

“Get on up there, search that train,” Dutch said, motioning to you, Arthur and Micah. Entering the train car, you spoke up. “Look at this place! It’s like a palace!”

“Now I’ve seen everything,” you heard Arthur say, looking around. “Alright, you two got the safe, I’ll search the rest,” he said to you and Micah.

“Oh yes, should be easy as cake,” Micah spoke. You groaned, walking away with the blond.

“You just gonna stand there woman, pour me some brandy, will ya?” Micah taunted you.

“I ain’t your maid, Mr. Bell. I know how to open the damn safe, _you_ pour _me_ some brandy,” you said, shoving past him. “We did all the work.”

“Yeah, she did good. Didn’t see _you_ rushing to jump on that train,” Arthur spoke up from the other side of the car.

“Does he _ever_ rush to do any work though?” you said, ignoring Micah’s presence. Arthur laughed. You kneeled down, slowly turning the combination lock on the safe. “There. See that, Bell? Not _everything_ needs to be blown up,” you said, standing, opening the safe.

“It’s just a pile of papers!” Micah said as he went through the contents of it.

“Papers can be worth something, _dumbass,_ ” you sighed, grabbing the papers from him.

“Bonds?” you heard Arthur ask.

“Don’t think so,” you said skimming through them. “Just railroad contracts and invoices,” you called out, placing the papers in your satchel anyway.

“Got ‘em,” Arthur said, walking toward you.

“Well thank god. Come on,” Micah spoke, walking to the door. You exited, Arthur following behind.

“What did you find?” Dutch asked.

“These,” Arthur spoke, pulling the bonds from his satchel.

“Bonds,” Dutch said, grabbing them.

“Worth anything?” you asked.

“Oh sure. Bearer bonds. I think we can probably sell these pretty easily,” he said, pocketing them. “Well done.”

“Now would you get rid of all this?” he motioned to the train. “Get it out of here.”

“What about them?” you asked, nodding toward the men still crouched in the snow.

“What do you think?” Dutch asked.

“Well I don’t know,” you said, looking back at him.

He laughed, “Well it’s up to you. Kill ‘em, leave ‘em here… Take ‘em with you on the train, just make sure they don’t send no folk after us,” he walked away. “See you back at camp. When you get back, we’ll be moving on,” he mounted The Count. “The rest of you. Let’s ride!” he led the group away, leaving you and Arthur alone with the guards.

“Okay, get on the train, quick, all of you,” you spoke up. They quickly went over, shaking.

“Any bright ideas, I’ll kill all three of you,” Arthur said, resting his hand on his gun.

“So behave,” you commented.

Two of the three guards entered the train, one stayed standing outside. “We won’t tell a soul, I swear!” he spoke.

“Get a move on!” Arthur yelled, causing the man to run into the train. You mounted your horse, riding slowly next to Arthur as he walked to the front of the train. He started it, stepping off once it began accelerating.

You watched as he mounted his horse. “I knew you was good at shootin’, didn’t know you were _that_ good,” he smiled at you. You laughed.

“Well like I said. Natural talent, I guess.” He looked back at his horse. “Let’s go, Morgan,” you said, spurring your horse on toward camp.

You didn’t realize O’Driscolls were tailing you, and before you knew it, a lasso wrapped around you, pulling you off your horse. You yelled, trying to pull out your gun as you hit the rocky ground harshly. “L/N!” Arthur said, shooting most of the men who were following. The man’s horse galloped away, your body dragging along the snowy ground, smacking your head on a rock. Everything went fuzzy as your mind throbbed.

_Finally,_ the man who held the lasso fell dead, and you groaned in pain as Arthur untied the rope. He sat you up, gazing over your body looking for injuries. You blinked, trying to readjust to the world around you. Grabbing your head, you moved your hand to see blood covering your glove.

Your vision going blurry again, you felt yourself being hoisted up onto a horse.

You woke up in the warm embrace of a fire, a bandage wrapped around your head. Sitting up, you looked around. Seeing a certain cowboy seated in a nearly broken chair in the corner, his legs stretched out and his hat pulled down, you concluded that he was asleep. You didn’t want to wake him, though it seemed that he sensed you were awake.

“Hey there, Morgan,” you said, looking at him. He pulled the hat up from his eyes and stretched.

“You’re awake,” he said aloud. “How you doing? Nasty bump on the back of your head,” he spoke.

“Better than when it happened, that’s for sure,” you chuckled.

“Good,” he gulped audibly. “I’m real sorry, Y/N. I should’ve shot ‘im quicker,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“It isn’t your fault, Morgan. Don’t do that to yourself. You saved my life,” you smiled at him. “So thank you.”

“Ah, weren’t nothin’,” he said, looking at you.

Over the next few days, you got used to living in a far warmer camp. Horseshoe Overlook was beautiful - Hosea had done a fine job of choosing it.

Sitting by the edge of the cliff, you were drawing in your journal.

“You feelin’ a’right, Y/N?” a deep voice said. Looking up, you saw Arthur sit next to you.

“Getting there, Morgan,” you smiled at him, turning back to your journal, closing it. “Thank you again, for saving my life. I know it isn’t much, but I’m not sure what else I can do as thanks,” you spoke, handing him a stack of cash. He cocked an eyebrow.

“The hell is this?” he asked, eyeing this money.

“My take from the train job. I can’t really go anywhere, so you could use it more than I can,” you shoved it into his hand. “ _It’s hard to thank a person for saving your life, Mister Morgan. But… Maybe you shouldn’t have._ ” He scoffed at your response. “ _Maybe it wasn’t worth saving,_ ” you sighed, looking out at the scenery before you.

“Course it was,” he said.

“ _Well, I’d like to think so,_ ” you smiled at him. He dropped the money back into your lap.

“I ain’t taking a reward for doin’ something right,” he said.

Damn. You were falling in love. _Hard_.


	3. You Can Be Awful

Arthur Morgan was an odd man, to say the least. He ran to the woman who broke his heart so badly, and you knew it wouldn’t end well. Seeing him leave that afternoon was painful; knowing that he was running off to her again. He was only hurting himself more.

Watching Arthur come back into camp was depressing. He left with such hope in his eyes. He came back looking so broken, so _hurt_.

You knew why.

That _damn_ Mary.

She broke his heart, asked him to change. You knew he couldn’t, this was all he knew.

The two hadn’t spoken in years, she called off their engagement. And suddenly she writes a letter to him? You weren’t about to go snooping into his things, but it irked you badly that she had the audacity to do such a thing. Hell, if you knew about their relationship while it was still on, you were _sure_ you’d have knocked her out due to some of the things she said.

He slumped off his horse, walking over to his wagon. Without taking off his boots or hat, he fell into his cot.

You could tell he was crying silently due to the slight shake of his body.

Arthur Morgan was _not_ a man to cry.

He was hurting. _Bad_.

Sighing, you grabbed a bowl of stew. Stepping toward his wagon, you knocked on the wood.

“Hey, Morgan,” you said softly. Placing the bowl on the table, you clasped your hands together. “Brought you some dinner,” you whispered. He only hummed. Sighing again, you sat on his cot, lifting his legs and then placing them on your thighs.

“What’s going on, Arthur?” you asked. You never called him by his first name. At first, it was out of respect, but it quickly turned into a nickname.

“Just some bullshit with Mary,” he said.

You sighed. That woman played with his heart like a damn fiddle. And he _allowed_ her to.

“Sit up, eat,” you told him, moving his legs onto the ground. He groaned, sitting up.

“Ain’t hungry,” he said, crossing his arms. Oh, how he looked like a child.

“Do I need to force-feed you, now, Morgan? Eat up,” you joked with him. Finally, he relented, taking the spoon from you. “So, talk to me. If you want to,” you told him, sitting with your legs crossed on his cot.

He sighed deeply, explaining to you everything that happened between him and Mary.

Listening to what he told you, you were infuriated. The fact that she had asked to see him after so long just for help with her brother was _disgusting_. And of course, he did it. He couldn’t say no to her.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I know you love her, but… She hurts you constantly. Plays with your heart. It’s not fair to you,” you said honestly.

He nodded solemnly. “I know. I’m a damn fool.”

“You’re not a fool, Morgan. You’re in love, and she doesn’t respect that. I _know_ you would cross an ocean for her. She wants you to change but she isn’t willing to change with you. I’m sure she means well but…” you sigh, laying a hand on his knee. “ _You can be awful to somebody without knowing it_. And I think that’s what’s happening, I don’t think she _means_ to hurt you. But she is,” you continue, glancing at him.

He only nods, eating another spoonful of the stew.

Deciding to leave the subject alone for a little while, you stand from the cot, grinning. Dutch’s gramophone is loud with some opera, and you see him and Molly dancing.

“May I have this dance, _Mister Morgan_?” you smile at him, holding out your hand.

“I ain’t much of a dancer, Y/N,” he smirks.

“Good, neither am I,” you say as he grabs your hand and stands up.

Walking toward the middle of the camp, you stand with one hand in his, and the other on his shoulder. His large hand sits nicely on the small of your back, and you only realize then how close you are to him.

You’re just barely pressed against his chest, and his breath touches your forehead softly.

You dance together, albeit terribly, tumbling over each other's - _and your own_ \- feet.

Arthur smirks and sends you twirling, before dipping you down. As he pulls you back up, he presses you closer against him.

Your eyes are focused on his neck, not daring to look up at him. Just as you feel his breath fan over your nose, and you see his eyes flicker to your lips, he pulls away.

“Thanks for that, Y/N. You’re a better dancer than you let on,” he grins.

You gulp audibly before nodding and smiling sheepishly at him. “You as well, Morgan.”

He walks to the campfire, sitting next to Hosea and Swanson.

Groaning quietly, you scold yourself. He’s just getting over Mary, _what_ are you doing? But sadly, you could not contain the happiness you felt, nor keep the huge grin off your face; for you were in _love_ with the kind cowboy.

Waking up the next morning, you saw a piece of paper folded next to your bedroll. Sitting up, you opened it.

A beautiful sketch of you and Arthur dancing, with the landscape of the camp behind you, adorned the page.

Smiling, you knew Arthur drew it. You flipped it over to reveal a small note written.

_‘Thanks for the dance, Y/N. It was fun, hope we do it again soon.’_

You grinned widely before putting the paper on the crate in your lean-to, standing up and stretching. You walked to the stew pot, pouring yourself a nice hot cup of coffee.

You noticed that the cowboy you were so smitten with wasn’t there. Asking John where he was, he said he had left early morning, and said he was going into the city for something. Nodding at the answer you were given, you sat at the campfire, opening your book and continuing where you had left off, though you couldn’t focus much on the pages. Your mind kept drifting to the outlaw that you spent the night dancing with, the way that he looked at you, how he pressed you against his hard chest.

You only hoped he felt the same way, though you knew you shouldn’t be too excited. He was still in love with Mary, at least, that’s what it _seemed_ like. Still, you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched when you would think about it, how your heart seemed to _literally_ skip beats.

The damn outlaw had stolen your heart, and you weren’t sure what he was planning on doing with it.


	4. Can't Have Advantages Without Responsibilities

Arthur quickly came back into camp. He had come from the city, and you expected to see something different about him, but he didn’t change at all. You wondered what he went there for. His eyes moved around the camp, darting to everything and everyone before landing on you. He smiled slightly, beginning to make his way over to you.

“How was your city trip?” you smiled at him.

“Got a few things, nothin’ much,” he said plainly. He clearly wasn’t going to tell you, so you moved on from the subject.

“So I heard you got Micah out of prison a while ago,” you said as he sat next to you.

He groaned, “Ah, don’t remind me. Guy shot up the whole town for his guns, damn manic.” You only laughed, of _course_ Micah would kill a town full of people just for his stupid guns.

“I gotta go meet him soon anyway, you want to come?” he asked you.

“Do I _want_ to go see a snake in person? Hm, I don’t know about that,” you grinned playfully.

He chortled; a loud laugh that bore his teeth in a wide grin, his eyes closed and his head went back. _Damn,_ he was gorgeous. _Shit._

“Fine, fine. I’ll go for you. Only because I don’t think Dutch would be too happy if Mr. Bell were to take a bullet between the eyes,” you told him.

He smiled again, looking at you. “Alright, you ready?”

“Oh, we’re going now? Sure,” you said grabbing your pistol and strapping your Lancaster repeater to your back. Following Arthur to the horses, you mounted up. “Lead the way, cowboy,” you grinned.

The ride wasn’t long, especially due to the playful chatter between the two of you. Reaching the mountain, you stepped off your horse, following Arthur to an opening. Seeing Micah’s camp set up, you stood back as Arthur went and spoke to him.

“Arthur, good to see you,” he spoke.

“Need rescuin’ again, do ya?” Arthur replied warming his hands at the fire.

“No, I got a plan to make it up to you.”

“Oh, a plan like the Blackwater ferry job? Or like you going off scoutin’ and ending up in jail?” he sat down.

That damn ferry job, you didn’t know Micah planned it. Now Arthur was going to have to keep _you_ from killing Micah instead.

Grabbing your gun and pointing it at the blond, you shouted at him. “ _You_ planned that ferry job?” your voice wavered.

Arthur stood again, raising his hands and walking over to you slowly. Tears were running down your face remembering the way that _stupid_ job went.

“ _Did you plan it?!_ ” you shouted again, your hands shaking.

Arthur grabbed the gun from your hand as you crumbled to the ground. He hugged you from the side as he sat you down on a crate.

“The hell’s she so upset for?” Micah asked scoffing.

“Jenny got killed on that ferry job, you idiot!” Arthur spoke to him.

Micah just sat silently as Arthur gently calmed you down. Standing up and wiping your tears, you looked at the blond.

“You done cryin', princess?” he asked, a small smirk on his face.

Grabbing your gun from Arthur’s hand quickly, you shot one bullet straight, it landing in the rock and dirt just behind Micah’s head.

“Next time I won’t miss,” you said holstering it.

You mounted your horse, “I’ll be back at camp. Don’t kill him, that’s _my_ job,” you told Arthur, spurring on your horse.

As you left the area, you heard shouting.

Arriving back at camp, you looked around for Hosea. The man always had good advice.

“What’s wrong, dear?” he asked as your tear-stained face sat across from him.

“Goddamn Micah. He planned that ferry job,” you told him. He sighed, placing down the newspaper.

“He got Jenny killed,” you said plainly.

“Mr. Bell is… I would say crazy, but Dutch seems to like him for some reason. I know that _you can’t have advantages without responsibilities_. He’ll get what's coming to him, dear girl. I know that.” He smiled at you.

“Oh, he will. _I’ll make sure of it_ ,” you told him. He laughed slightly before letting go of your hand.

You’d kill that snake a hundred times over for Jenny. No doubt about it.


	5. Your First Name

Arthur came stomping into camp, Micah in tow. Tilly and Mary-Beth calmed you down as you saw that snake waltz in. Immediately upon seeing your face, Arthur seemed to calm down, walking towards your group.

“Hey, Y/N. You doin’ a’right?” he asked.

Nodding softly, you looked up at him. “Just fine, Morgan. Everything go okay?” you smiled slightly. The girls stood and left you two alone.

“Ah, no, course not. Got the wagon, then we was gettin’ robbed by O’Driscoll’s for it. We took the money from the lockbox, but the wagon is in the river, with a ton of bodies,” he sighed, sitting next to you.

“Here. I, uh, I got this for you,” he pulled a small box from his satchel. Handing it to you, you looked at him quizzically.

Opening it, you saw a small brooch. It looked like Jenny’s. “Oh my, I can’t take this, Morgan,” you looked at it. It was a beautiful Amethyst gem, surrounded by intricately carved gold.

“I got it for you, I know Jenny had one like it. Wasn’t there when Charles and I went back to bury her. I know it ain’t really the same, but I thought… I don’t know, I thought maybe you might like it,” he smiled softly, blushing.

Tears spilled from your eyes, “You really didn’t have to. I know this stuff can be expensive,” you sighed, rubbing your finger over the gem, handing it back to him.

“I wanted to, Y/N. I know it don’t mean as much as having her, but having something to remember her by might be nice,” he pushed it towards you again. “It’s yours,” he smiled.

You leaned forward, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Morgan,” you cried.

His arms stiffened for a moment before wrapping around you.

Later that night, with the beautiful brooch pinned on, you sat near the fire, singing along with everyone to Javier’s song that he played on his guitar. Taking another sip of your drink, you were already a little tipsy.

Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you looked up to see Arthur, a wide grin on his face and an arm outstretched. “May I have this dance, _my lady_?” he said playfully.

Smiling sheepishly and nodding slightly, you took his hand, stepping over the log.

He led you to the middle of the camp, wrapping an arm around your waist and his other hand placed in yours. He hummed along with the song, and you could feel the rumble in his chest. It was nice; a reminder that he was true and real.

The alcohol seemed to be getting to you, and your mind was racing, thoughts of your feelings toward the outlaw clouding you. “ _Mr. Morgan - can I call you by your first name? Can I tell you something? No, I won’t - yes, I will, because I like you now. I didn’t like you at first,_ ” you stammered.

His face was slightly red - you could barely see it in the dark.

“You seemed very… cold and closed off,” you continued. “But now… You’ve been so very kind to me. More than anyone. And I’m thankful for that. For _you_ ,” you smiled up at him.

He grinned back. “Glad to be of service, Y/N.”

You so badly wanted to lean up and kiss him - his lips looked so soft and tender, and his eyes were, for the first time you’d ever seen them, full of happiness.

As your eyes flickered to his lips, your mind still was clouded by your thoughts. Your breath fanned his chin, and as your lips were about to touch when he sighed and pulled away. “You’re drunk, Y/N. Don’t want you doin’ anything you’re gonna regret,” he smiled, leading you to your bedroll.

“Good night, Arthur,” you smiled.

He grinned slightly, hiding his face behind the brim of his hat. “G’night, Y/N,” he walked away.

Laying down, you looked into the sky.

Damn that stupid cowboy. Making you _feel_ things.


	6. They Hate You For It

The morning was dark and gloomy. Leviticus Cornwall was hot on your tail, and the recent shootout in Valentine meant your group couldn’t stay much longer.

“So we keep heading east, is that the plan? And when do we stop? When we reach Paris?” you heard Hosea’s voice from Dutch’s tent.

“Oh that’d be nice, join the commune,” Dutch responded.

Walking over to the tent, coffee in hand, you peeked inside.

“We stop when we find someplace sensible, shake them that’s following us and lie low,” he spoke again.

“This is lying low? We turned into a bunch of killers, I mean it. We ain’t even got the delusion of being anything but a bunch of killers,” the older man told him.

Sadly, you couldn’t help but agree. Too many people had died, and you weren’t one for killing innocents.

“We are just trying to survive, Hosea. We don’t have a choice,” Dutch told him.

“So, we moving?” you heard Arthur speak up.

“Yeah. This’ll end soon,” Dutch said as Hosea stood up.

“Damn right it will!” the older man shouted, walking out of the tent.

“Constipated as usual,” Dutch murmured.

“You know, Dutch, I think he’s right,” you entered.

He looked up at you.

“This will end with either the lot of us in prison awaiting a hanging, or we’ll be dead before that,” you told him.

“Miss L/N, don’t you worry. Micah told me of a place we can lie low, everything will be fine,” he spoke.

“Oh, so Micah found it? Who’s dying? Me? Hosea? Lenny? Who is it _this time,_ Dutch?” you shouted at him.

“Nobody is dying, Miss L/N,” he began.

“Oh please, if Micah found this place then death is sure to happen. You forget about Davey? Or Mac? Or… Or Jenny? Or were they just _casualties_? Just meaningless lives lost on the way to _paradise_ , huh?” you interrupted him, a sarcastic tone taking over.

Both Dutch and Arthur looked at you with surprise, Arthur beginning to slowly walk towards you.

“Don’t, Arthur. I’m fine,” you shrugged his hand off before exiting the tent.

Sitting across from Hosea at the table, you were fuming. That goddamn manic was going to get everyone killed.

“I heard what you told him,” the older man spoke up, his eyes not drawing away from his newspaper.

You nodded, “That goddamn rodent’s gonna have our heads on stakes. I know it. Too many people died, Hosea. Not only from us, but random folk - _innocent people._ That isn’t what we are, I know that,” you told him.

“It’s not. Dutch has too much faith in that man. He doesn’t seem to want to listen to me or Arthur, but he’ll put everyone’s lives on the line for a small piece of information given to him by a man who's been here a mere six months,” he sighed.

“I don’t want to believe that her death was just… a casualty. She didn’t die for nothing, _right?_ ” you croaked out.

“Of course not, dear. Dutch is just blinded by what he wants to hear right now,” he told you.

Nodding, you stood from the seat. Seeing Arthur speaking to Charles, you went over to them. “Dutch has you going to check this place out?” you asked. They nodded, so you walked to the horses with them. “Great, I’m coming too,” you mounted up.

“Sure, just follow me,” Arthur spoke, spurring his horse on.

Arriving at Dewberry Creek, the place looked abandoned, spare for the body that lay just in front. Going down a path toward the camp, you unholstered your pistol.

“Bunch of wagons, anyone here?” you called out. Walking next to them, you uncovered the bottom of one wagon, seeing a woman and two children. Immediately holstering the gun, you stepped back, raising your hands. “We’re not here to hurt you,” you spoke loud enough for the other two to hear.

Allowing the woman and the children to come out from under the wagon, she held the gun up, her hands shaking.

“You okay?” you asked as you heard the two boys come up.

They didn’t answer, prompting Arthur to ask again. “S-She said ‘are you okay’?”

“Sprechen sie Deutsch?” the woman spoke.

“English? You speak English?” you asked calmly.

“German,” she said again, hiding her children behind her.

“No. Now, go, go on get outta here,” Arthur said. “Go, we need the land, go.”

Glaring at him, you spoke up. “You aren’t _really_ kicking out a woman and her children, Arthur Morgan.”

“They took our father,” the young girl called out from behind the woman.

“Who did?” Charles asked.

“M-Men… last night,” she spoke slowly.

“Where?” you asked them, stepping in front of Arthur. “Where did they take him?”

“Ain’t no business of ours,” Arthur said. “I don’t even speak their language.”

“You ain’t like that, Arthur. You wouldn’t send away a woman and her kids, so _shut it,_ ” you pushed past him, walking to your horse with Charles.

“The girl was pointing this way, let’s see if we can pick up a trail,” Charles spoke. “There, tracks. Come on,” he continued.

You shook your head silently, looking down at the ground. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” you asked out.

“What do you mean?” Arthur replied.

You scoffed, “You were really going to send that woman and her children on their way?”

“We’re wanted men. We got Pinkertons breathing down our necks, we should be moving camp, not running off on some wild goose chase,” he spoke.

“Come on, Arthur. That’s not how you are,” Charles said.

“Well. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” he told him.

“Maybe _I_ do, though. And that isn’t it,” you told him.

Following the tracks further, you were led to a deserted camp. Hopping off your horse, you walked further into the camp, seeing a man tied up. You went over to him, beginning to cut the ropes off when he spoke in German again, and gunshots began ringing out. Grabbing your Lancaster, you shot three men in the head quick as an eye.

“What are we doin’? This ain’t even our goddamn fight!” Arthur called out.

“It is now, Morgan!” you shouted.

Once the last of the men were killed, you quickly untied the man. “Come, come with me,” you spoke softly, gesturing with your hands.

“Charles, you get Dutch to divert the wagons here. This spot should work well,” you said to which he nodded. “And you, _Mister Morgan_. You need to learn some manners. Mount up, follow me,” you spurred your horse on back toward Dewberry Creek.

Arriving back at the wagon, you saw the woman and her children again. The man saw them and jumped down off your horse, running to them.

“Andreas!” the woman called out, covering her mouth. He hugged her tightly as well as the children, looking back at you two.

You smiled as you elbowed Arthur. “See that, Morgan?”

“Yeah yeah. Now come on, get out of here. This place ain’t safe,” he spoke.

They just looked at him confused.

He flung his hands out, “Vamos,” he said.

Unable to contain your laughter, you doubled over. “ _Vamos!_ Arthur that’s Spanish!” you cried out.

Your laughter was cut short by being handed a gold bar. Your eyes widened as he placed it in your hands. “Thank you,” the man enunciated.

“Guess it was a pleasure,” Arthur spoke from beside you.

Arriving at the new camp, you sat with Mary-Beth and Tilly.

“Well all I’ve gotta say is _never try to take care of someone. They hate you for it,_ ” Mary-Beth spoke.

Confused, you looked up at her.

“I’ve seen it. People don’t like people like us - outlaws. You do anything out of the goodness of your heart, they’ll think you’re trying to get something out of them. Might even try to have you killed,” she continued. You only wondered what happened to her in the past.

Looking over at the cowboy across the camp, you smiled lightly. You were taking care of him, and he, you. Neither of you hated each other, so maybe it was different now.

At least, you didn’t _think_ he did.


	7. Some Reliable Man

While Clemens Point was a beautiful camp, you felt as though you couldn’t enjoy it, what with everything going on. Dutch had asked you and Arthur to accompany him into town, he wanted to meet with someone. Arriving in the small town of Rhodes, you noticed his white horse hitched by the sheriffs.

“Dutch wanted to meet the local law?” you said to the cowboy beside you.

“I guess so,” he said simply.

“He really is trying to get us all killed,” you stated, entering the door.

“Oh, and here are my dear friends. Arthur Callahan, and Y/N Stafford. Boy is a hunter, boy is a killer. Miss Stafford is quite the gun lady, as well. Both are… _pinnacles of justice,_ ” Dutch said to a man, who seemed far drunk. Guess that was the only way someone could believe Dutch to be a law-abiding citizen.

“Arthur, you’ve met, but not been introduced to Mr - Oh I’m so sorry - _Sheriff_ Gray,”

“How are y’all doin’?” Mister Gray slurred his words.

“Just fine, sir,” Arthur said.

“Tough business you folk had,” he spoke again.

Looking at Dutch confused, you asked, “We did?”

“Oh there’s no need to pretend with me ma’am, it can be tough,” the sheriff spoke.

“So it can,” Arthur commented.

“And no man, nor lady, owes another anything,” he stammered.

“No sir,” Arthur kept up the act.

“But still, I feel you were hard done by losing your employment like that,” he spoke to Arthur as he stood. “But still, here in Rhodes we have work enough for honest men,” he handed a jug to Arthur.

He took a sip, nearly gagging. “That’s some strong stuff,” he handed it to Dutch. “Still, don’t seem to be doin’ you any harm,” he continued as the sheriff stumbled out the door.

“So, what you’re a deputy now, Morgan?” you laughed as you exited the building.

“Guess so,” he grinned at you.

You could practically taste the tension in the air, cut it with a knife. It was thick and made you uneasy.

“Listen, Morgan. I do know what happened that night. I know we almost kissed,” you sighed.

“You was drunk, Y/N. Didn’t want you to do anything you would regret,” he didn’t look up at you.

You shook your head, “I was merely tipsy. I wasn’t drunk; I knew what was happening. And… I think you knew that too,” you gazed at him, he was hiding his face under the brim of his hat. “I care for you, deeply, you know,” you told him, turning your gaze to the ground.

“I do,” he said quietly. “I know you do. And I care about you, too. Little more than I care to admit,” he exhaled.

“Then why are you pushing me away?” you asked, looking up at him again.

“ _Why don’t you invest in some reliable man?_ ” he asked you simply.

Scoffing you tipped his hat back so you could look at him. “You _are_ a reliable man, Arthur,” you smiled.

“I ain’t. I ain’t a good person, Y/N, I know that,” he sighed.

“You are though,” you told him.

“I’m an outlaw. I’ve killed people - too many folk to remember. You… You don’t deserve that,” he spoke.

“Are you forgetting that we run in the same gang? You’re no worse than I am, Morgan.”

“I beg to differ, but if you say so, _my lady_ ,” he smiled slightly.

“Give me a chance, Arthur. _Please_ ,” you touched his shoulder softly.

Sighing, he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Over the next few days, it seemed the cowboy allowed you to get closer. You were together more, your touches seemed to linger, and you were sure the whole camp noticed how you two looked at each other. You were speaking with Arthur when Uncle came over, a drink in his hand, talking about some job.

“I bring a gift. The great gift of information,” he said.

“So you got some tip off, so we can risk our necks, and make you some money, while you lounge around,” Arthur told him.

“You know, Arthur, bitterness, it works on the inside, as well as on your sour face,” Uncle responded, watching as the man leaned against the tree.

“If you say so. But you can go find some other fool to run your errands,” he said.

“Charles, come on over here, will you be my other fool?” The older man called to him.

“What do you mean?” the aforementioned walked over.

“Arthur and his lady are too above a little stick-up I heard about.” You reddened slightly at the title you were given.

“No we ain’t. I’ll do it, as long as you ride with us,” he turned to him.

“Ha! Getting you out there again! Come on, old man,” you patted his shoulder.

“I got a serious medical condition,” he stammered.

“Yes, you are a compulsive liar,” Arthur laughed, taking a puff of his cigarette before handing it to you.

“No need to be like that. Charles, have I ever lied to you?” The old man asked.

“I hardly know you,” he responded, confused.

“Exactly!”

Charles looked at you in confusion, you just shrugged. That’s how he was.

“Now you folk should do this, it’s easy. And I’ll only take a small commission for my information, but it’s now or never.”

“Then it’s never,” Arthur spoke, placing a hand on your back and leading you away from the group of men.

“God help me,” Uncle said, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Arthur laughed along with you.

“Well what is it?” he asked, grabbing your hand.

“It’s a supply wagon, carrying payroll, but very briefly unguarded, apparently, as it passes through a crossroads near here, where there’s an old ruined church, before it connects with the rest of the wagon train,” Uncle spoke as he mounted his horse.

“So long as we get paid, or you get shot, I’m happy,” Arthur said as he stepped on his cigarette.

Laughing lightly, you mounted your own horse.

The group of you followed Uncle down the path of Clemens Point.

“So, how’d you hear of this anyway?” you spoke up.

“Well while you lot have been off fishing, or playing lawman or whatever, I’ve been getting down to business.

“For the first time in how long?” you joked.

“Hey, if you don’t want in on this, L/N, that’s fine by me. Do us all a favour. Head home,” he said.

“Hey, you watch your mouth there old man,” Arthur warned.

Arriving at the spot, you all covered your faces awaiting some sort of wagon.

“Let’s keep this quiet and clean. Nobody needs to die here,” Charles spoke.

“There, you see that? Just like clockwork,” Uncle piped up, motioning to a wagon that began passing through.

“Stop that wagon!” you called out, grabbing your pistol.

“Now, don’t try anything, and nothing will happen to ya, got it boys?” you spoke.

“You know, y’all, I don’t want to get shot, but this is a mistake. I work for Cornwall Kerosene and Tar. Mr. Leviticus Cornwall,” the man said, raising his hands.

“Oh great,” you heard Arthur groan from the other side of the wagon.

“So you know him?” the man asked.

“Who doesn’t? I know he’s rich enough to share the wealth. He shouldn’t miss it too much,” you said.

Arthur and Charles checked the back of the wagon, while you and Uncle stayed with your guns pointed.

“Uh oh, boys. We got company!” you shouted, seeing another wagon pull up down the road.

Quickly riding down the path, you pointed your gun back, shooting all four men.

Arthur shot the other three, killing all of them.

Just as you thought nobody was tailing you any longer, another few came along, following your group into the plains.

Killing them with ease, you came across a homestead.

“Let’s hide out here,” you called out, pointing to a run-down barn.

The men nodded, getting off their horses.

“Alright, let’s get out of sight. Stay until dark, and then we’ll sneak out of here,” Arthur spoke as he walked into the building.

“Charles, you keep watch for now while we uh… get some rest,” he continued.

Sitting down on the dirt floor, you took out your gun. Grabbing a cloth and some gun oil, you wiped it down, your mind elsewhere.

Arthur sat next to you, placing a hand on your knee. You smiled as you continued cleaning your weapon.

You woke up with Arthur patting your shoulder. Sitting up, you realized you were laid between his legs.

“Good nap, Miss L/N?” you heard Uncle ask.

“Shut up, old man,” you grinned.

“Shut up. There’s a light. Over by the house." Charles spoke from the window.

“Let’s just keep this calm, see what happens,” Arthur said as he helped you stand.

Hiding behind a wall next to him, you peeked around the corner at the house. They were asking about your group.

“Maybe I heard some noises around the barn a while ago… Ain’t me,” the homeowner spoke.

Two men approached the barn, one entering and barely looking around. “Place is empty!” he called out before hearing something, turning back around, his gun pointed out. You shot him quickly, silencing him.

“Looks like we’re shooting our way out of here, fellers!” Uncle said.

The barn was quickly overrun, your small group being easily outnumbered.

Turning around to shoot at the other side, you felt a sting in your stomach, and another in your leg.

“Ah, shit,” you groaned.

Continuing to kill each of the men, you went through the hole in the barn’s wall, following the group into the forest.

You were much slower, you noticed, and clearly Arthur did too.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re shot,” he spoke as he helped you behind a rock.

“I’m fine Morgan, ain’t the first time,” you grinned.

He shook his head, grabbing his gun and shooting the next two men who tailed you.

Regrouping with Charles and Uncle, you stood slightly hunched over due to the constant bleeding. Arthur was at your side, your arm around his shoulders as he helped you as to not topple over.

“We all still alive?” he called out.

“Just about,” you chuckled humourlessly.

“Yeah, I’ll deal with you later,” he said to Uncle.

“Hey, we got some money didn’t we?” the old man responded.

“Sure, but now Y/N’s shot and we got Cornwall on our backs again,” he readjusted his hold on you.

“It was an honest mistake, I’m real sorry Miss L/N,” Uncle spoke to you.

Simply nodding, you groaned again.

“Alright, let’s get you back,” he said as he picked you up.

Whistling for your horses, he placed you on yours.

“Follow me, girl, come on,” he told your horse.

Riding back to camp, Miss Grimshaw was able to get the bullets out. She said you would be fine, just to take it easy for a couple of days.

Arthur sat with you, talking, writing, and drawing in your journals.

Dutch, however, stopped your time together by asking him to go with Sean to do something. Hosea had mentioned the Gray’s tobacco plantation a while ago, and maybe that’s what they were doing.

Either way, you felt a little worried about him. You knew the man could look out for himself, but it was different now that you had grown to care so much for the cowboy.


	8. Degenerate Business

The Braithwaites asked the boys to torch the Gray’s tobacco plantation. With moonshine, of course.

You know, to make a statement.

You knew Arthur could take care of himself, but the fact that he was going with only Sean… well, it was worrying, to say the very least. Yes, Sean was a good man, and a decent shot, but damn was he loud and obnoxious. He was right, though - he certainly could talk a dog off a meat wagon.

The job had gone well, both men came back in one piece, virtually unharmed. Seeing the two come back into camp, you tried to hide the way you practically ran to them, wrapping your arms around Arthur’s waist in a tight embrace.

“You knew I would be fine, Y/N,” he laughed as he hugged you back.

“Yeah, I know. But I don’t trust those families. Something off about them,” you said, pulling him towards the fire.

“Whatchu mean?” he asked as he sat on the log.

“I don’t know, just… They’re odd. You sure they don’t know how Dutch is playing them?” you asked sitting next to him.

“I don’t think so,” he sighed, entangling his fingers with yours.

“Well… be careful, is all I’m saying. Never know what rich folk like them could do.”

“I’m always careful, Y/N,” Arthur grinned, bearing his teeth.

“Ha! Sure you are, Morgan,” you laughed.

The next day, Arthur told you he was going with Sean, Bill and Micah to meet some Grays in town. Immediately, you offered to accompany them.

Arriving with Arthur in Rhodes, you saw the three men by the bank. Dismounting your horse, you grabbed your Lancaster repeater. “Been waitin’ for you, Arthur,” Micah said, standing from the stairs. “Hello, princess,” he grinned at you.

“Watch your mouth, Bell,” Arthur warned.

“Just saying hello,” he said.

“Let’s get going,” Bill spoke.

“Well what’s the plan?” you asked, shouldering your gun.

“We’re meeting a couple of the Grays over at the saloon. They spoke to Bill about a job… needing security,” Micah said as he walked.

“After the farce of stealing the horses for them, why are we doing this?” Arthur tensed.

“‘Cause we need to stay in with them… and they’re paying,” Micah answered.

“So what kind of security they want?” you asked, peering over at him.

“We’re about to find out, now come on.”

“This seem legit to you, Bill?” you spoke up.

“Sure," he began before being cut off.

"Dutch said we was to keep dealing with them until we find this gold,” Micah interrupted.

“Can we trust them?” Sean asked out.

“Can we trust anyone?” Arthur answered, looking around.

“Why are they all looking at us?” you asked, noticing the eyes on your group.

“Probably nothing, let’s just see what they say,” Micah spoke.

“They said there was some… big misunderstanding about them horses,” Bill said.

“And? What about burning their fields?” Sean spoke up.

“They don’t know we had anything to do with that,” Micah answered.

“Oh, that so?” Arthur commented.

“Yeah. They think it was the Braithwaites. Listen I know these Gray boys a bit now. This is on the level,” he looked back.

“We’re stuck in the middle of some ancient blood feud,” you sighed.

“But instead of playing both sides, we’re being used by both of them!” Arthur continued.

“They were saying that Catherine Braithwaite…” Micah was about to speak again before Arthur interrupted.

“Hey hold up… This don’t feel right,” he said.

Sean turned around, “Now it don’t feel right? I coulda told you-“

He was interrupted by a bullet in his skull.

“My god! _Sean_!” you yelled as you looked up to see a sniper.

“Get down! Dammit!” Arthur pulled you behind a barrel.

“Cowards are in the gun store!” Micah shouted.

Shooting multiple men, you and Arthur ran into the back of the gun shop. “Getting sloppy Morgan,” Micah commented.

“Really? You see that window in Sean’s skull? Don’t you talk about sloppy,” you yelled.

Running out of the gun shop, you shot a few more men before the rest ran off.

“See that? The cowards are running away!” Micah said, coming out of the gunsmith.

“Sheriff Gray! You need to get a hold on this town!” he continued. You walked in front of the Sheriff's office.

“Who do you think you are? A bunch of two-bit thugs from God knows where?” you heard the man say from behind the door. “You’re so dumb to think we don’t know what you been doing!”

“Come out sheriff! It’s over,” Micah called out.

“We put down far worse than you, a hundred times over! This is the Gray’s town, always has been, always will be!” the sheriff said.

“Only Grays I see left around here… Is you!” Micah taunted him.

There was a short moment of silence before the sheriff spoke again.

“You want us to come out? We’ll come out!” he said as he opened the door, stepping out, holding Bill in front of him.

“Ah, shit. Bill!” Arthur said.

“Guns on the ground, now!” the sheriff commanded.

“Don’t do it,” Bill said.

“You know we can’t do that, you put the gun down sheriff!” Arthur called out.

“I’ll blow his brains out!” the sheriff taunted.

All at once, you, Arthur, and Micah pointed your guns at them, killing each of them instantly.

Walking over to Sean’s body, you crouched down. Placing a hand on his head, you sighed.

“He was a good kid,” Arthur spoke quietly beside you.

“Well how the hell was I to know?” Bill said, grabbing his gun off the ground.

“Well let me see, they set us up once before, they didn’t like us, we destroyed their farm, should I go on?” Arthur yelled. You stood, silently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Go easy on him Morgan. He was out trying to find a lead, same as you, same as Hosea. All you do is complain when things don’t work out. Except when it’s your goddamn fault,” Micah spoke.

“ _Go easy?_ Sean is dead, you slimy snake! Or do you not care about other people dying?” You shouted, Arthur picking up Sean’s body. “You don’t give a damn about anybody but yourself! Anything with you… _It’s degenerate business!_ ” you screamed at him.

“You act so high and mighty, princess, but you’re no better than the rest of us. I ridden with you folk for what? Six months now? And all you ever done was complain. You can fight, but you can’t think,” Micah said.

“And you can't do either,” Arthur said, holding Sean’s corpse.

“Bill, take the boy’s body, bury him proper someplace quiet,” Arthur put the body on the back of Bill’s horse. “Micah, best you and I don’t speak for a moment.”

“ _You_ should be the one in the ground, Bell. Not these good people,” you sneered.

“Oh I am just _so_ frightened by you, princess,” he laughed as he rode off.

You sighed as you mounted your horse next to Arthur.

“Sean didn’t deserve that,” you spoke as you rode next to him.

“I know.”

“That damn snake is getting everyone killed. We’ll all be dead soon if he keeps this up,” you sighed.

“Let’s get back to camp, talk to Dutch,” Arthur said.

Nodding to him, you spurred your horses into a gallop.


	9. Always An Intruder

Talking with Dutch had been a nightmare. You knew he changed but you didn’t think he’d look past something of that stature. In the midst of your screaming match with the dark-haired man, Lenny called out.

Pinkertons.

Dammit. Not a _single_ break today.

They had found the gang, offering to take only Dutch and let the others run free. But of course, that wasn’t an option. Promising to be back with a near army of men, you all packed up quickly.

Arthur mentioned an old plantation house he saw with Lenny; Shady Belle, it was called. You went with him to exterminate any lingering pests, and to clear your head from your argument with Dutch.

It was nice - having a room, being in four walls again. Arthur insisted you and him shared; something about him not wanting you in the swamps outside. Of course, you didn’t complain, it was better to be inside than next to the gator’s waters.

Waking up in the room, you noticed Arthur was not next to you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to awaken before you, but he usually sat with you, scribbling something in his journal, reading a book or cleaning his guns. Peering around you, you noticed a note on the table, sitting atop his map.

Standing and walking over to it, you skimmed through it.

_Damn Mary._

She was _still_ writing letters to him? That little-

Sighing, you slightly crumpled the paper in your fist, before setting it down and pulling on your boots. Stepping outside, you asked Kieran, who was often by the horses, if Arthur had left.

He said he saw him turn right, toward the city.

You mounted your horse, saying a quick thank you before heading there yourself.

Riding down the streets of Saint Denis was odd - it was so vastly different from any town you had ever seen before. A bustling city, with stone roads and proper lawmen and huge mansions couldn’t begin to compare to a little town like Strawberry or Valentine. Not even Blackwater could come close to this. You quickly noticed the cowboy exit the general store; he was hard to miss amongst the fancily dressed men in pressed suits, and women in large dresses.

Staying back a little bit, you followed him, watching as he dismounted his horse, he looked around before you heard a voice.

Ugh, her _damn_ voice.

The way Mary spoke was so irritating to you - how she constantly repeated his name, over and over and _over_ again. She was a master manipulator, and she used their past against him.

“Arthur!” she called, “Up here!”

You peered up to the balcony where she stood, waving her arm. You noticed two men stop behind Arthur, glancing up at what looked to be a romantic scene.

For you, it was _far_ from that.

It was disgusting, abusive, and vile that she even thought about writing to him. Probably just to ask for help again. The thought made you gag.

“You came!” she said happily.

“Yeah. I came,” Arthur spoke to her.

“Wait there, I’ll be right down,” she called out.

You saw how he looked into his reflection, wiping his teeth. Was he _really_ trying to impress her?

Deciding to stay back and listen, you felt awful for eavesdropping on their conversation. But the guilt was quickly washed away by the realization that he had done this without telling you.

Of _course_ she asked for help. And of _course,_ he did so.

Sighing, you mounted your horse, watching as she held onto his waist. The woman didn’t deserve to be near him, _let alone_ be on his horse. They arrived at a stable, then followed her father around. They hung back a bit to not be spotted and you did the same to them.

Watching how she pulled him back, his chest pressing against her, her back to the wall. It hurt. She knew he still had a love for her, and she led him on. Making him believe there was a chance for them. There wasn’t - it was obvious, at least, it was to someone who _wasn’t_ so painfully in love with her.

Her stupid daddy had sold her mother’s brooch, and Arthur, being who he is, ran off to get it back. He really _would_ crawl to the ends of the earth for that woman, and she wouldn’t clean the dirt off her boot for him.

She asked him to go to a show. A date, of sorts. He agreed, _as friends_. She grabbed his arm, lacing her own through his.

“You know, Mary… This is only as friends, alright? I’m… I don’t know, I’m trying with someone else. And I love her, _I really do_ , okay?” he spoke. She looked up at him, removing her arm. Your heart filled and your belly fluttered. You loved him, but neither of you had said it yet.

“You are?” she said quietly.

“Yeah. I’m trying to move on a little. _You know_ , like you did, gettin’ married an’ all,” Arthur retorted.

“I didn’t get married because I wanted to, Arthur, you know that,” Mary’s voice was soft. She was using _that_ tone with him again, the one she used when she wanted him to do something.

“Arthur… Do you ever think about us?” she asked.

“I did. But I’m happy now,” Arthur responded after a moment.

“But… us? Did I not make you happy? What if… We can run away, Arthur. Right now,” she said, grabbing his hands.

“You know I can’t do that, Mary,” Arthur sighed. “You know, you weren’t always fair to me.”

You were happy that he was standing up for himself as if he was _finally_ realizing that she was using him.

“If I was fair to you, and a good person, I’d have had you hanged a long time ago,” Mary spoke, crossing her arms.

That was it. The final straw.

Exiting your spot behind the wall, you lunged at the woman, shoving her to the ground. You grabbed at her neck, choking her. Letting go, your hands balled into tight fists; all of your pent up emotions; anger, sadness, and grief all came tumbling out in quick and harsh punches. The anger at Micah, the sadness of how Dutch seemed to not care, and the grief of Jenny’s passing all spilled out of you like vomit in the form of rage through your arms.

“How _dare_ you!” you shouted as you landed another hit to her temple.

Feeling arms pulling you off, you were pressed into a hard chest. You punched and pushed at the body of the man who held you, quickly realizing it was Arthur.

He shushed you as he stroked your hair, tears continuously falling down your cheeks. “Let me go, Arthur,” you said into his chest.

The arms reluctantly released their tight hold on you, and you gazed over at the woman who sat against the wall, a hand on her neck and a forming purple mark on her face.

Your eyes filled with a fire, a rage as your wrist was grabbed. “Don’t kill her,” Arthur’s deep voice whispered.

Nodding, he let you go. Stomping over to her, she scowled.

“You crazy woman! What in the hell was that for, you psychopath!” she shouted.

You crouched down, grabbing her hair in your fist. “If you ever speak to Arthur that way again, I promise you… you will regret it, Miss Linton. Be cautious as to who you make enemies with, Mary,” you told her menacingly.

Standing, you sighed deeply, looking at the sky.

Turning to see Arthur leaning against a light post with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face, you walked up to him. “So, about that show?” you said, patting his shoulder lightly.

He chuckled, holding his arm out to you.

“Oh please, Morgan. You don’t need to change and be all fancy for me,” you scoffed, pushing his arm back.

“Fair enough,” he laughed, grabbing your hand instead.

The walk to the theatre was filled with silence before you spoke up.

“Why did you go see her?” you asked simply.

“Felt like I had to, I don’t know. Don’t get jealous though, Y/N. I don’t love Mary, I know that much. I just feel like… Like _perhaps I was always an intruder in that family_. Daddy didn’t like me much. Was too… I don’t know, beneath them, I ‘spose,” he answered honestly, gripping your hand tightly.

Sighing at the answer, you leaned your head on his arm, stroking your thumb across his calloused hand. They were rough. But at that moment, to you, they were the most caring hands in the world. It was much like Arthur. He was an outlaw - a killer, a thief. But with you, he was soft, gentle, and kind. A side of himself he showed to no one else. The side that drew pretty pictures, wrote beautiful stories, and picked flowers.

He _wasn’t_ this bad man he so often claimed to be.

“Two tickets?” he asked the ticket master.

The theatre was… quite something. It was gilded in gold and ivory, a garish and unpleasantly wealthy style.

Entering the theatre, you sat next to Arthur, he immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders. It was nice. The show wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be, you even laughed along with Arthur and shouted funny comments out when the lady dancers walked onto the stage, lifting their skirts and showing their bloomers.

It was especially nice being so close to Arthur, though. You snuggled into his side, his arm wrapping tighter around your shoulders, and his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

Finally, a moment of _peace_.


	10. Not Used To Being Loved

Arriving back at Shady Belle, you dismounted your horse along with Arthur. Giving her a quick brushing and a carrot, you walked to the stew pot and prepared two bowls. Placing both on the table, you grabbed two beer bottles and ushered Arthur to sit down with you.

“You need to eat, cowboy,” you smiled, pushing the bowl closer to him. “Haven’t seen you grab some stew in a while.” He didn’t argue, grabbing the spoon and eating some.

“Pearson make this?” he sounded surprised, “Tastes pretty good this time.”

You feigned a gasp, playing it off with a laugh. “Got him some seasoning and spices. Grimshaw snuck it in, don’t tell him,” you grinned.

Your laughter quickly died down as your thoughts shifted to the way Mary spoke to him. You knew they were in love, and that he had proposed to her. They were engaged, and you knew they had strong feelings for each other, you only wondered if those thoughts still lingered within him. Noticing your sudden silence, Arthur spoke up. “Everythin’ a’right?” he asked, peering over at you from across the table.

“Fine, yeah,” you answered, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Talk to me, Y/N. I know you better than that,” he grabbed your hand.

Sighing, you spoke quietly. “I just… Did you mean that?” you didn’t dare look up at him.

“Mean what?” he asked curiously.

“When… When you told Mary you loved me. Did you mean it?” you murmured softly.

He took both of your hands in his and rested them on the table. “Look at me,” he stated. Lifting your head slowly, you saw his blue-green eyes staring at you.

His eyes were always so calming - so mesmerizing. A beautiful mix of sapphire and emeralds, even a hint of bronze and gold. His eyes were gems, and much like his heart; they needed to be cherished.

Arthur was not the only one with a beaten and tattered heart. He had some awful situations with relationships, with Eliza and Mary. You went through a lot at that horrific place where you met Jenny. Men were greedy and aggressive beings; taking whatever they wanted at whatever cost. And oftentimes, _you_ were what they wanted. A quick fuck, a beating, and near-death situations were all part of the job. Love was something you had never felt - the closest thing to it being your friendship with Jenny.

Falling for Arthur was something painful in an entirely new way. You wanted closeness with him, but being touched was a block for you. It was hard to resist holding on to him, though when you did it felt as though it burnt your flesh. Still, with all of that, you weren’t sure if you wanted to tell Arthur everything just yet. You weren’t even sure if anyone in the gang really knew what you and Jenny had done before joining them.

You hadn’t even noticed the few small tears that began falling down your face, before you felt a rough and calloused thumb brush against your cheek.

“I do. I mean it,” Arthur spoke as he pulled away his hand. “You know I’d never say that if I didn’t.”

You nodded, “I know, just… _I’m not used to being loved, I wouldn’t know what to do. I never got the trick of it,_ ” you sighed.

“Neither did I,” he grinned. “Maybe that’s why we can work.”

You smiled lightly, looking up at him. “I love you too, Morgan.”

And finally, those lips were against yours. They felt better than you could have ever imagined, dream or otherwise. They were chapped, yet soft, his stubble lightly pricked your chin, but that only made it that much better. The corners of his mouth raised in a slight smile as he pressed your frame closer to his.

Things were starting to look up. You knew life wasn’t promised with the way you lived. So maybe sometime soon you will spill and tell Arthur about your past.

But today was not that day.

Today, you just wanted to rest, snuggled up next to him at the fire, singing silly songs with the gang.

His arms were strong and firm, and they held you with a light drape around your waist.

His rolled-up sleeves allowed for his warm skin to lay against yours. While it was nice to have a connection like that, it hurt. It burned so badly, you had to keep yourself from pulling away.

But he would know. Soon enough.


	11. Not Afraid Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of sexual abuse.

Arthur definitely noticed something off about you recently. You had been avoiding his touches more and more. Everyone could see it, especially considering how physical you used to get.

It wasn’t him. It was far from that. But the thoughts constantly came back to you. Of those awful, _awful_ times. Those terrible men.

Those men were truly evil. They hid behind their suits and top hats. Behind their mansions and their wealth. They were so candidly horrific they would put _even_ old Micah Bell to shame.

The memories only heightened as your physicality with Arthur progressed.

The two of you had gotten particularly… _handsy_ that night, and you ran out of the room with tears streaming down your red face.

Of course, with his terribly low self-esteem, Arthur thought he did something to upset you. Immediately running after you he apologized profusely, for whatever it was that he did. Both of you stood by the small dock by the swamps, away from the others.

Shaking your head, you sniffled, not looking up at him. “It isn’t you, Arthur.”

“Then talk to me, darlin’,” he spoke softly as his large hand rubbed your upper arm in comfort. Seeing you flinch at the contact, he pulled his hand away immediately.

“Do I… Do I make you uncomfortable? Or scare you or somethin’?” he questioned, he was genuinely concerned.

“No no. Just… It’s stupid,” you sighed.

He crouched, peering up at your face that was staring at the ground. “If it's bothering you this much it ain’t nothin’ Y/N. So talk to me, sweetheart, ya know you can. If I scare you or somethin’ just say it.”

“ _I’m not used to being touched, but I’m not afraid of you,_ Arthur Morgan,” you spoke loudly. “Stop making yourself out to be some horrible man! You’re not!”

“Now that ain’t true, I ain’t a good man, darlin’,” he laughed humourlessly.

“Don’t you dare. I know bad men, Arthur. Men that are… truly… _purely_ evil. _Venomous_. That’s not you, even in the slightest,” you hissed at him.

He looked quite taken aback by your sudden outburst.

“The _real_ you is the one that draws me while I’m asleep. Sketches out near every new animal he sees. That keeps flowers he’s never seen before pressed in his journal. That sneaks little smiles at me from across the camp. That’s you, Arthur. Not a terrible monster who beats, touches, and nearly _kills_ innocent women,” you shouted.

His eyes were wide as he looked at you.

“Is… Is that what you an’ Jenny went through?” he whispered.

Nodding simply, you looked away from him.

Gently and slowly, he pulled you into a tight embrace, still allowing you to pull away.

You didn’t.

And suddenly, it felt as though all the burning stopped. A weight was lifted in more ways than one. You lightly turned his face towards you, and he looked at you.

His beautiful green-blue eyes were filled with adoration and love. They sparkled a blue brighter than his usual sapphire. Like an ocean, or the bright wide sky. The green was still that of a perfectly clear emerald, a gorgeous green that brought out the blue that much more. The gold was prominent, clashing against the brightness, but also melting with them beautifully. They stared at you, and you felt lost.

His mouth curved upwards in a small smile, a short and quiet laugh escaping his perfectly plump chapped lips. It was happiness. Pure and unadulterated elation.

He looked like some sort of hallucination; too perfect. But he was there - true and real. And in love.


	12. Glad It's You

Out.

That’s what you wanted.

Dutch had planned a bank job in the city, though he knew the dangers of it. There were so many more lawmen in Saint Denis than any town the gang had been in before, and it was almost certain it would go badly.

You wanted to tell Arthur this, especially concerned for not only your safety, but his as well. Dutch demanded you do it with them, considering your skill in shooting. He wanted you to keep watch with a sniper as Hosea and Abigail caused a distraction.

Though he didn’t like to admit it, Hosea was an old man, and he wasn’t well. It wasn’t hard to tell he was sick; what with him coughing so often. You argued constantly with Dutch to not send Hosea out there, but the old man himself insisted on going, of course.

You were done trying to protect everyone else; if that old man wanted to die for someone gone nuts like Dutch, he could.

It was only you and Arthur you cared about - you were not about to let him die in there. You begged and pleaded with him, telling him through tears that it would go wrong.

“Please, Arthur, please! You can’t do this! Not to me, and not to yourself!” you squeezed his arm.

You knew how much he hated seeing you cry, and knowing that he was the reason for it couldn’t feel good. “You know I have to, darlin’, come on,” he sighed.

“You don’t though, Arthur, please! Let’s just go, find someplace to stay, even for just a little while! Think about everything that’s happened! Everyone we’ve lost! Dutch shot that poor woman in Blackwater, Arthur, he’s gone mad! Maybe you weren’t on that ferry, but I was! She was innocent, pleading for her life and he shot her!” you got down on your knees. “I’m begging you, Arthur Morgan. Please don’t do this. Don’t get yourself killed for a crazy man, I’m not ready to lose you,” you cried harder, holding onto his hands.

He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He nodded slowly, “Alright. Come on, get up, sweetheart,” he helped you stand.

Immediately, you crashed into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle as loud sobs escaped your throat.

“We find a place for a bit, see how this plays out. Okay?” he asked as he pulled your face up to look at him.

His blue-green eyes were cloudy, a storm behind them. The blue was a muted grey, beside a mossy green that was much darker than the pleasant emerald shade they once were. They were foggy, a mist blowing through the iris as if it were a tornado.

You nodded, hugging him again. He was pained by his decision; he owed his life to the gang - to Dutch. But he would never leave you, even for that man. That’s the thing with the man Arthur Morgan. He was loyal to a fault. Some things, however, overtook others, and his loyalty to you overthrew his loyalty to Dutch. Dutch may have saved his life, but you saved him in an entirely different way. Because though you could not heal the scars on his flesh, you did the ones on his heart.

You stomped into your little cabin that was nestled in the trees of Grizzlies. Arthur looked up, placing his journal on the table. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he stood.

You didn’t say anything as you shoved the newspaper into his hands, pulling off your coat and boots.

“I damn well told you, Morgan!” you shouted as his eyes skimmed over the paper. “I knew that job was going bad!”

His jaw hung slack as he read the words that were printed. It was nearly a week old now.

“'19-year-old Lenny Summers, and Hosea Matthews, believed to be approximately 55, were reportedly both killed. A further gang member was arrested and awaits trial'. I told you, Arthur Morgan! If you did that stupid job you’d be dead!” you cried out.

“Hosea and Lenny are dead,” he said plainly as he put the paper down.

Calming yourself, you walked over. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so upset,” you sat next to him.

A tear ran down his cheek. Arthur Morgan didn’t cry. The last time he did was when he was so hurt by Mary. Months ago.

You took his head into your lap, brushing your fingers through his hair, which had grown out considerably since you two stayed away from the towns nearby in fear of seeing someone from the gang.

“You think it was Dutch who got arrested?” you asked softly as your fingers played with his long locks.

“Dunno. Though don’t reckon local law would take him, might be someone else,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

“Well, I’m sure they’ll put a photo up somewhere. If you want to we can try and figure something out by then. They said the guy would swing,” you spoke.

He looked up at you. “You’d do that?” he asked quietly.

“Of course, Arthur. These are your friends. The only reason I didn’t want us doing that job with Dutch is that I knew he’d gone mad. Micah got into his head, but if _we_ plan something out it can be reasonable,” you answered as you lifted his head from your lap, standing up and pulling your boots back on.

“Where you goin’?” he peered over at you from the sofa where he laid.

“Nowhere, honey. Just cooking some dinner on the fire outside,” you bent down and kissed his head as you walked out the door.

As you crouched in the snow, rotating the venison over the flame, you heard hoofbeats on the pathway.

Grabbing for your gun, you pointed it at the direction the noise came from.

But the person you saw riding up to your cabin was the last person you expected to show up.

“Charles?” you asked, lowering the gun.

He slid off his saddle, rushing over to you.

“Y/N, is Arthur here?” he asked quickly.

“Yeah, he’s inside, wh-“

Before you could even finish speaking, Arthur opened the door of the cabin, a shotgun in hand.

He dropped it when he saw Charles.

“John was arrested, Sadie and I just got him out, but we don’t have any place to hang low,” he spoke.

“Well, where are they now?” Arthur asked as he peered over, seeing only Taima there.

“They’re at this place by Bacchus,” he explained.

“What about the rest of the gang? Tilly, Mary-Beth, Susan?” you questioned.

Charles shook his head, “No idea. They left while we were doing that bank job. Sadie and I showed up to Shady Belle after, and nobody was there.”

A pang in your chest hoped they were alright, but you were sure they would be. They’d find someplace. But right now, Sadie and John needed help.

“Well, of course, go bring them back here, I’ll grab us some extra food. Arthur, grab some extra clothes of yours for him,” you spoke as you pulled on your coat, grabbing your bow.

The men nodded, Charles swiftly mounting his horse again.

Just before Arthur could re-enter the cabin, you called out to him. “Clean up a bit too, if you can,” you smiled lightly.

He laughed shortly and waved you off.

Catching a perfect doe as well as two rabbits, you made your way back to your cabin.

You saw three horses munching on the hay pile at the front; Arthur’s, Charles’, and the golden horse, Bob, you remember he was Sadie’s.

Taking the rabbits off the sides of your horse, you entered the small house, seeing four people smiling and chatting in the living area. You quickly set the carcasses down and hugged both Sadie and John.

“Arthur, you were supposed to give him those clothes,” you sighed as you saw the black and white striped ensemble John was still sporting from Sisika.

Arthur sprung from his seat, grabbing the clothes off the bed, and handed it to him.

The five of you sat and ate comfortably, and to your surprise, none of them were upset about you and Arthur leaving the gang.

It had only been a couple of weeks, and already the two of you were quite used to living together in your own little home. It was different, sure, but it wasn’t bad.

“So, I have to ask, how in the hell did you two get John out of Sisika?” you put your plate down, shuffling closer to Arthur’s side on the small sofa.

“They just flew,” John answered sarcastically.

“No really, how? Sisika Penitentiary is on an island,” you inquired further.

“We flew in, really!” Sadie laughed at your confused face.

“Hot air balloon,” Charles interrupted her.

“Huh, cool,” you sighed. You still weren’t entirely sure how that happened, but you weren’t going to ask about it any longer.

“Glad to have you back, Marston,” Arthur smiled at him.

“Good to be back, brother. That place was terrible,” the man in question spoke.

Nightfall came fairly quickly, you laid in your bed. Finally, it was large enough to properly support two bodies.

Sadie and Charles slept on the sofas, and John insisted on sleeping in a bedroll on the floor.

Arthur was tentative to wrap his arms around you as he crawled into bed beside you.

Noticing his hesitation, you grabbed a hold of his hand, wrapping it around your waist as you looked over at him.

“Is is a’right?” he asked softly as to not wake the others.

“Arthur, _I want to be touched. To be held. And I’m glad it’s you,_ ” you spoke with absolute certainty.

He grinned widely before snuggling closer to you, nuzzling his face the crook of your neck.

Arthur Morgan was a physical man, and while at first, that wasn’t easy for you, he made you love it.

He definitely was your new rock.

The morning was peaceful, you being the first to stir awake.

Shifting your body around to look at the man you laid next to, you awed at the sight of him.

Arthur always put on a façade of being this big tough brute who was a right-hand man to an infamous gang of outlaws, but behind that act was a soft, sensitive, gentle, and kind man who just needed to be loved. He was so peaceful in his sleep, his features relaxed, no stress of ‘what next’ shown across his face, no cloudy greyness in his usual sapphire-emerald eyes. Tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear, you kissed his forehead before climbing slowly out of bed, being sure to cover him back up.

Stepping over John’s legs, you tip-toed over to the kitchen, cutting up some fruits and heading into the snow outside to boil some coffee.

The air was crisp, cold, and clear. Grizzlies West was a beautiful place, and though it was cold, it was comfortable.

Taking hold of the perlocator, your hands relished in the warmth of the metal. You poured the hot liquid into five mugs, stepping back inside and placing them all on the small table with the fruits and some bread.

You climbed back into bed with Arthur, lightly shaking him awake. He grumbled before his eyes fluttered open, revealing his beautiful green-blue orbs.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” his husky morning voice croaked.

You grinned, laying your head on his chest. “Morning, Arthur. Coffee’s on the table.”

He nodded, sitting up and stretching. His navy blue union suit was wonderfully fitted, shaping around his bum nicely. “You have a nice bottom, Mister Morgan,” you laughed quietly as he stood.

He shook his head with a smile as he lifted the mug off the table.

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking…” you said slowly. “You and Charles buried Jenny nearby, right?” you asked as you peered up at him across the room.

He nodded softly, “Yeah, we did. You want to go see her?”

You nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “Feel like she deserves to know we’re okay, you know?”

He sighed, walking over, sitting next to you on the bed. “It’s gonna be hard, but I need to,” you spoke.

“I know. Want to leave a note and head over there now?” he asked as he grabbed his blue button-down shirt.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smiled, quickly changing out of your nightgown while Arthur held the blanket up to prevent any watchful eyes of your guests.

“Can catch some lunch on the way too,” he said as he pulled his boots on.

You quickly scribbled down a note for the three that you two had gone out, and would be back soon. Grabbing your coat and hat, you exited the cabin quietly following Arthur. Ever the gentleman, he offered a hand as you mounted your horse, though you had done so a hundred times.

The ride was pretty quiet, only Arthur’s beautiful humming filled the air along with the sounds of the nature surrounding you. He led you to a small clearing in the trees. A small cross lay nearly covered by snow.

Stepping off your horse, you walked to the grave. You tried so desperately to be strong, but as soon as you saw the name Jenny Kirk etched into the wood the tears flowed from your eyes as though a dam had broken. Arthur walked behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder comfortingly.

“She didn’t deserve to die so early,” you spoke quietly as you reached out to touch the cross gently.

“I know. None of ‘em did,” Arthur sighed.

“She was all I had, you know,” you turned to him.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled you into his chest.

You two sat in the snow, where you first got close to the cowboy, and how you were now; living your lives together in peace. No more missions, no more gang, no more outlaw lifestyle.

The entirety of an outlaw was that you lived like that the rest of your life, or die trying to get out.

But you were out. Both of you.

You had beaten it, together.


End file.
